


True Story

by florahart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU: in-story alternate dimension, Babies, Divination, Draco and Harry both use their words, Harry isn't clueless but he is pretty confuzzled, Malfoys do not pine thank you very much (Draco's been pining), Multi, Pregnancy, harry and draco make beautiful furniture together, pansy the newspaper columnist can't print lies, time-dimension-astral-plane travel I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/florahart
Summary: Pansy takes her job at the newspaper seriously, and if the story of Harry and Draco is selling a lot of copies, well that's all to the good.  Besides, it's even true.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Justin Finch-Fletchley/Pansy Parkinson, off-screen Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	True Story

**Author's Note:**

> Every once in a while something moves me to dig up a fic I wrote back in the LJ period of HP fandom and repost it here. This is such a case. I wrote this a decade ago (holy crap), but it's a lot of fun and so here I am reposting. 
> 
> This story was written for an exchange called HD Holidays for LJ user Leela_Cat, so you might surmise that Harry/Draco is the point, and that's true. And yet, nearly all the smut in here is het smut and also doesn't involve Harry or Draco. Sorry?
> 
> Note: I said no archive warnings apply, and that's ...true? But because of the AU factor there is a change that may matter to folks who love a certain character, so I will put that in an endnote. Everyone else: that's not a mistake.

At the stroke of midnight, Pansy Parkinson sat bolt upright in bed, toes and tits oddly atingle, and cursed.

The curse, in and of itself, was in no way unusual; Pansy had long since ceased in her efforts to pretend words containing the syllable 'fuck' weren't her favorites. However, as she'd only just got to sleep (and she _liked_ getting a solid night's sleep, as it made morning considerably more tolerable), the sitting bolt upright was.

"Whazzat?" Justin mumbled, his face uncovered because she'd pulled the blankets with her. His nose squinched and a disgruntled little line formed between his eyebrows, and for a moment she considered ignoring the urge which had awakened her in favor of finding out how much of his cock she could have inside her before he actually woke up. It wasn't only the _word_ she liked, and Justin, for all his many faults, was more than a bit gifted at the act.

But no, that only made the tingling sensation, which, now that she thought about it, was not at all like the fun kinds of tingling, worse. She sighed. "Nothing, Pumpkin. Do go back to sleep."

"Righ...don' call m' punnn." Justin was snoring again by the time Pansy had her feet on the floor. Good; if she was going to be up half the night rearranging large chunks of section one, she certainly _would_ wake him later--it was the other way of making morning tolerable, after all--and he would need his rest.

She shoved her feet into slippers and pulled a thick robe off the hook on the back of the door, then made her way downstairs, idly wondering whether Pibly would have determined tea was required. Ah, well, if not, she could always summon her to make it.

Or she could just get her task done and, she thought with a grin and a happy little shiver, get back to bed.

\--

The morning edition of _The Prophet_ was, as usual, moving slowly when Harry retrieved it and sat down with his coffee. Rising at five with no assistant jolt of adrenaline was not something to which he was becoming accustomed, but Ginny was apparently some sort of freak of nature and liked to be up with, or possibly before, the birds. He supposed eventually he would adjust, and besides, it was supposed to be worth it, once he did, right? But as far as he could tell, the newspaper wasn't awake yet, either. He didn't blame it.

He sipped his coffee, scowled when (as had happened nearly every morning in the year and a bit since they'd moved in together) he burned his tongue, set it on the table beside him to cool, and unfolded the paper.

Apparently there was a rash of bowtruckle infestations in topiaries in the west. Good to know. Not that he had any topiaries. Or lived in the west. Or gave a flying fuck if there were bowtruckles. He read on. 

Trade mission to Australia, very good, although that reminded him he didn't know if Hermione had made any progress with her parents during the weekend just past. Scandal in the European leagues, where Weiss and Giacomo had been found placing wagers on their own teams, story to continue on page four. 

That sounded more interesting than trade missions to anywhere; Harry caught two pages with his thumb and spread the paper open.

And blinked.

Right, and evidently he and Draco Malfoy were engaged in a lengthy flirtation and possibly illicit affair, as evidenced by the flurry of owls between them this week.

He wondered who the fuck had been watching his owls--the flurry was true, but not because there was flirtation--and also, when the newspaper's (unofficial) policy had ceased to be, 'if Harry Potter's name is in it, put it on page one, in extremely large print.' And who'd made such a change for, in his opinion, the better; if it was Pansy herself he was going to have to send her a sodding bouquet and that would probably kill enough of his soul that an accidental Horcrux would be a concern.

He went back to reading about gambling and scandal; contemplating when and how to be in touch with the editor or publisher or, well, whoever, regarding the importance of fact-checking which was not a five-in-the-morning sort of task.

\--

_Potter,_

_I hesitate to send this owl, as we are clearly under observation (fucking reporters; haven't we already been in the newspapers enough for any lifetime?), but first, I wanted to see whether you had any action against that column in the works, and second I wondered whether we ought to just meet in person, in public, so that everyone can see there are no cocks, tongues, or other likely bits in play while we work out the rest of the contract._

_I assume you have read today's _Prophet_ , as it is now a quarter past six and as I recall, your wife is exceptionally fond of dawn, the mad girl._

_Do notify me if you'd prefer to complain to the editors jointly; perhaps between your name and my notoriety we could compel them to quake in their boots. Or at least feel a small trickle of apprehension; to my frustration I've noted that very few people cross the street upon my arrival any longer._

_Lunch at the Wandering Wildebeest? Say, half two? Unless you'd rather not take the chance some unethical being will take a perfectly innocent photograph and make it appear to be something deliciously filthy just so it can be in the papers._

_\--DM_

\-- 

_Draco,_

_Half two is fine, but I hate that place. Galloping Grindylow? It's closer, and besides, the scones are better._

_Obviously I've seen it (and I think if either of us has the right to feel we've been shouted about in the newspapers enough, it would probably be me). And there's no need to insinuate my girlfriend is mad; she's just happy about mornings for reasons which have yet to become clear to me. _

_You honestly needed to tell me about your cock at sunrise?_

_I suppose it was crowing. Shut it, I know you were going to go there; you never miss an opportunity to say such things._

_See you this afternoon. Order for me if I'm late; you know what I like._

_\--Harry_

\-- 

"Why'd you put something so..." Justin trailed off for a moment as Pansy repositioned herself over him, then regained his focus. "So likely to cause a great bloody controversy that'll take up all your time and energy in your column?"

Pansy shrugged. "I've nothing better to do?"

"This isn't better?" 

She squeezed around him and pulled away slowly, teasing, then dropped back and did it again. It always made his eyes roll back. "Yes, but sad to say, we can't just fuck _all_ the time."

Justin slid one hand down her back to cup her arse and pushed his other hand between them, then stopped, thumb just touching her. "So, no reason, then?" He pressed and circled. "Or is there something you're not telling me?"

She ground down against his hand. "Well, it's also _true_. Writing _true_ gossip always gets me hot, and you know you like the outcome of that."

"Duh. But, so, what, you've seen them?"

"After a fashion."

"How does one have an affair _after a fashion?_ And how does someone else find out and find it hot?" He pulled his hand away and waited for her to scowl at him.

"You understand I have fingers myself, do you not?"

"Of course, but I find rewarding you for forthrightness... rewarding."

She shifted her angle slightly and glared, but said, "Fine, they're not technically having an affair. Yet. But they're going to wind up together. Don't ask me how I know."

"What, Divination?"

"I said don't ask. And that was entirely forthright and reward-worthy."

Justin laughed and reached off to the side, fumbling for one of Pansy's favorite toys; she had to agree, the vibration of it and the pressure of the shaft between them, as though it was his and the cock inside her was perhaps a visitor, was indeed rewarding.

\-- 

"Harry, is there something you want to tell me?"

Harry looked up from where he was holding together two edges to find Ginny in the doorway. "What?"

"I've just received an extremely weird parcel."

"And it led you to think I've something to tell you?" Harry glanced back down and adjusted the angle slightly, then murmured the words to make the boards grow into each other. The movement echoed through the wood into his hands, which always felt strange, but he'd found it had to be held to work, so he ignored the buzzing in his wrists and held everything still as he looked back up, waiting.

"It includes a series of letters between you and Malfoy."

"Right, well. We do quite a bit of work together; we post letters quite a lot."

"Yes, but these appear to have ...not been written yet?"

Harry started to speak, paused, and waited for the hum to fad so he could put down the joined parts and get up to go around his workspace. "Not written yet? How can you tell?"

Ginny shook her head. "The dates say so, but obviously that part could be just somebody playing a very funny prank."

"I'm nearly certain Fred isn't in the business of post-dating letters to one's business associates. George might've, but well. You know."

"Right, I know." Ginny sighed and Harry followed her as she walked into the living room and set the bundle of letters on the table, fingering through them to pick out one. "But, for instance, this one is about how you wish things were different, but you wouldn't give up the family you have."

"True, I wouldn't."

"And you mention our sons."

"We don't have any--oh, so that's why you think it's the future?"

She shrugged. "That and how another one, here, mentions the birth of the first one. Which is on exactly the day I just learned this morning is..."

"Is what?"

"See, this is possibly the worst way in the world to deliver this news, but the parcel was delivered as I was just leaving the healer."

Harry tilted his head. "So, you're telling me we're having a baby, and I want to shag Malfoy? Doesn't it seem like these things don't make sense together? Wait, we're having a baby? I should think that ought to have been above the fold."

"Of course it should, but how would you or anyone else have written a letter in which you predicted a date that is the exact date I learned minutes before I was handed the parcel? And anyway, the letters aren't all from the future."

"You read them all? How many are there?"

"I don't know, eighty? A hundred? And no, I read some of them, but one was from just two days ago." She flipped through again. " Here, this one."

Harry looked at it. "Okay, I did write this, but it's hardly a love letter."

"No? So you regularly correspond with people about their cocks?"

"Gin, it was a figure of speech." Harry shook his head. "It was honestly nothing; you know it's a good chance anything I do gets photographed, and it certainly would have been in _today's_ news if we'd met at the Grindylow for anything licentious."

"Which explains the emphasis on girlfriend how?"

"What?"

"It says girlfriend like that's as opposed to something. Opposed to what?"

"Oh. He said wife, which he does to give me shit about our nontraditional, apparently antithetical to pure-bloodedness, unmarried state. I was just answering truthfully in my defense of your fondness for being up before the sun. Just because _I_ think you may be slightly unhinged in that regard doesn't mean _he_ gets to say so."

"I didn't know the two of you were such great friends." Ginny's tone was warming, though she still seemed a bit doubtful and stiff.

We're not _friends_ , so much. We were just working on the charms for the new line, and I don't know if you've noticed, but Draco flirts with anything that moves. We've been back and forth with Ayleborne quite a lot about the contract. But back on topic: baby?"

She shrugged. "In the autumn."

"And it's a boy?"

"So the letters say."

"You...Gin, you don't seem very happy about it."

She paused. "It's not that. I was when the healer confirmed it, but this whole thing, it's left me with a bad taste."

He didn't pause to think about that, plowing ahead with, "Well, I'm happy about it." About half a second after it was out his mouth it occurred to him it probably sounded like he was suggesting his happiness was the most relevant thing at hand, but he didn't exactly want to apologize for feeling glad. "Um. I mean, I am, but I want you to...be?"

He wasn't sure what to make of her lack of response, but it seemed to him she didn't want him to follow her out, so he turned back to his work and let her have her space. Hermione was always telling him he needed to let her have space, right? He considered dropping in on Ron and Hermione for advice now, but they were Ginny's family; it was likely _she'd_ gone over there.

Maybe it would all blow over.

\--

Pansy twirled her quill absently and crossed out a few words, replacing them with something slightly more sensational, then adjusted the order of the headlines just a little. It wouldn't do for her to appear to state anything really specific that wasn't entirely true, but she'd been doing this for quite some time and was an old hand at leading the eye in such a way as to allow people to draw terribly scandalous unstated conclusions.

She stepped back two paces and closed her eyes for ten seconds and one deep breath before taking a fresh look. Perfect. She cast the charm to copy her typesetting to the press, then let it roll. As soon as the first copy came through, she called it to her and looked at it one more time on the paper itself.

Honestly, it was like magic: an affair _and_ a happy new arrival all at once! The paper was going to sell out entirely by a quarter past six, or her name wasn't Pansy Parkinson.

She left instructions with the staff to produce ten percent more copies than usual on her authority, and went home to her waiting boyfriend. Fiancé. Whatever. If he wasn't waiting up, she was definitely going to wake him.

\-- 

_Potter,_

_I hear you and the wife are producing offspring. I'd offer congratulations, but I expect you'd know really I only have any opinion whatever because if experience holds, this will increase our joint business prospects considerably. After all, everything you do, everyone else wants to think they can do better._

_Speaking of, has the Weasel made his move yet, in that regard?_

_No, wait, I forgot. Don't answer that; I don't in any way want to know._

_I have a thought regarding the portability enhancements. You preferred the Grindylow--tomorrow at four? I can break it down into the small steps you'll need over tea._

_\--DM_

\-- 

Harry had expected there would be interest--as Draco had said, and it hadn't exactly been a stretch for anyone to realize--in his procreative activities, but somehow he'd failed to anticipate just exactly how intrusive and annoying the interest would be. He shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the near-constant sparks and tickles as cameras flashed and quills brushed his face, ready to take down any sound he uttered, printable or otherwise. 

It took nearly five minutes to make his way, silently and with as neutral an expression as he could manage, into the shop; it took another two to engage all the relevant charms to obscure his windows and soundproof the front facade so he could break a few things in peace.

"Frustrated, are we, Potter?"

Harry whirled. "Draco! Shit, warn a man."

"Potter, I'm in your shop; you might want to refrain from doing anything inappropriate."

"Yeah, I wasn't--bugger. Did that lot see you come in?"

"I doubt it, but I suppose it's possible. I was here a few minutes before you, so it's marginally within the realm of reason that one of more of them managed to take at least one picture that would show me, if they looked."

"And then I came in and slammed all the blinds closed. Excellent."

Draco stretched his mouth into a wide grimace of concern. "Yes, I suppose that might look bad. Still, you're not doing anything wrong. You build children's furniture, and I charm it; just because they don't _know_ it's me that does the wand-work doesn't make that any less true."

"We could just do something truly ridiculous and make the nature of our business relationship public."

"Christ, Potter, are you mad? I don't know if you recall, but there was the matter of my parents and if one insists upon complete veracity also myself playing host to Voldemort himself, for several months, during which you were being hunted all over Britain and hauled before me all swell-faced and filthy."

"I've apologized already for getting dirt on the carpet."

"Not my point, and I imagine even you must be bright enough to know it. No, my _point_ is that I suspect everyone is happier with the ambiguity, honestly; if they understood we were in fact in business together they'd be _certain_ I was offering sexual favors of great variety and skill to get you to work with me."

Harry sighed and went over to see how the end panels were drying. "That's ridiculous. Everyone deserves a chance to redeem past errors."

"So, you're looking to trade up on the Weasley girl, then?" Draco pulled back when Harry spun again. "Oh please, I'm obviously joking. I'm not a complete arse; I just act like one on a distressingly regular basis. For the newspapers, you know. Surely you've known me long enough to discern the pattern."

"The newspapers. The ones that aren't here?"

"So I have occasional flare-ups in private." Draco shrugged. "Is she speaking to you again yet?"

"Stop changing the subject. My relationship with Ginny is neither your concern nor that of the newspapers, and while I do appreciate that Pansy seems to be placing the news of our illicit passion on page four rather than in screaming bold font on the cover, it's tiresome to have seen further reports three times now. Plus, Hermione thinks I'm obviously being an arse, which means Ron has to stay as neutral as can be. I think they're sort of trying to be there without actually involving themselves. Can't say I blame them."

"I'm surprised you haven't contacted her to offer some sort of threat. I said I'd go with you, although I can see how that might opposite-of-help."

"I think the word you want is--"

"Fuck you; my vocabulary is certainly better than yours. I was making sure you'd be able to grasp my meaning, of course."

"Of course." Harry decided the panels would do as they were and levitated the cradles into the center of the room. They'd discovered early on that it was best to be certain the ones _to_ be charmed stayed well apart from the ones _already_ charmed during the settling process. "And no, she's... I don't know what to think."

"Can't be an unfamiliar sensation."

"And now fuck _you_. I'm being serious here. She's basically hiding. From me, from her mother--I'm actually becoming rather worried."

"Because of Pansy? That's just stupid."

"No, not that. I mean, I told you: she asked me about it, I told her the truth, and as far as I know she believed me, but she's still completely freaked out about this letter packet someone sent to her. Truth be told, I think it's pretty bizarre as well."

Draco looked unconvinced. "It's bizarre to get letters? Such as the ones one might post at any time?"

"Yes, but these were from the future or some damn thing. Except some of them were ones from me to you. Or at least, one was. It convinced her Pansy was right, basically, so even though she believed me, she thought something questionable must also be going on. At least on your end."

"She had post from the future, and she believed it?" Draco frowned. "And now she's hiding. Hm."

Harry placed the last cradle where he wanted it. "What?"

"This is going to sound entirely off-point, but I'm going to ask you to consider that I might have inside information: how well does she know Pansy?"

"Not well. Why?"

"So, why does she believe this story? _I_ know Pansy gets weird sensations about stories sometimes, but I don't think there are more than four or five other people who know it, and generally she tells _me_ when she gets them." Draco scratched his ear. 

"Weird sensations like what?"

"Like--seriously, if you tell her I said this, I won't have to cut your bollocks off, because she will have seen to that and I'll be busy fleeing the country--it's definitely Divination, but she swears it's not. She swears she only gets hunches. That she feels in her body. And that are always bloody right. But that would be crap journalism and she takes a fairly absurd amount of pride in her good name, so even though I've _seen_ her when she gets one, and it's, you know--"

"Incredibly creepy? Trelawney was incredibly creepy, but she was also kind of that way to start." Harry crouched to shove a shim under one of the legs--the cradle was even, but the floor wasn't, and stability was also important.

"Yes. Although I've come to believe it's less a matter of physically being creepy as that it's as though a person's overall general persona is enhanced or some such. Anyway, it's obvious and I'm not willing to say she doesn't do some level of fact-checking, but it's how she's broken every big story she's ever done. She never prints anything that's not technically true, but how she knows... I don't know."

Harry turned and sat down on his arse, looking up. "So, you're saying she's _right._ That you and I are going to commence an affair, despite that I have a pregnant girlfriend and we haven't ever actually, you know, done anything that a reasonable person would conclude constituted anything of the sort."

"We have; there was that one time directly after the war--"

Harry shook his head. "That wasn't us. I mean, it was us, but it wasn't about us; it was about being not dead. I think there may have been as many as six people above the age of about fourteen in Wizarding Britain who _didn't_ find someone to get off with. So that was just... wasn't it?"

Draco waved his hand until Harry scooted out of range of the cradles, then built a gleaming rune in the air, chewing on the inside of his cheek. When the rune was done, he left it hanging there for a minute and said, "I don't know what to say to that. But to answer your earlier question I suppose I have to say yes, that's what I'm saying. But honestly, I didn't have any ill intent, and you--you're the bloke that runs into burning places and shares championship trophies to be perfectly fair; I can't quite see how a _reasonable_ person would think anything of it. But we're not all reasonable." He held his hands wide and gave a flick of both wrists, pressing forward gently until the rune ballooned and burst, falling in a sparkling shower of goodwill on the little beds.

Harry watched until the shimmer faded, considering the whole situation, then checked the work and gave a nod. "Nice. Strong. You want to finish up here whilst I go check on her? Ginny, I mean."

Draco simply started forging the second rune as Harry closed up the shop-front and went out the door. He was gone when Harry returned, leaving only a note: _Probably I should just stay away for now. I'm only making things worse, sneaking in and the like, and while selflessness has never been my greatest trait, I've decided I ought to branch out a bit. So you don't have to go to any trouble: headboards are marked, and I think everything's all tied down that should be. --D_. Harry folded up the note and shoved it in his pocket. Awesome. Now everyone thought he was fooling around with Draco, which, all right, he'd become roughly a million percent more agreeable over the past several years, and it wasn't as though it was a hardship to look at him. Still, looking wasn't a crime. But now he wasn't even going to be doing that, evidently.

\-- 

Pansy didn't know what had made her look up from her tea until she caught the flash of golden-red in the sun past the fountain. Oh. She stood quickly and then considered her actions and gathered her things before taking another glance. Yes, the Weasley girl was still moving south. Toward... She dropped a Galleon on the distressingly wobbly little table--honestly, could the staff not manage a simple stability charm?--and followed.

It had long been Pansy's policy not to work out of her actual office any more than she could help; for one thing, the stories were out in the world, and for another, ugh, desks. So yes, sometimes she looked up at just the right moment, but usually, unlike now, she didn't feel the characteristic twist in her body that meant it was something big. After two minutes on the trail, she gave in and listened to her body, then shrugged and Apparated ahead. Arriving early would only give her time to arrange a little discretion, after all.

Forty minutes later, she was back in the office--the real one now, because this was going to go in tonight's papers for certain--laying out the headline and considering whether it was time yet to bring the story onto the front page.

\-- 

_Pansy,_

_You know I love you, darling, but I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing. No, I haven't seen him, and no, I'm not defending his honor (or hers) for any special reason because I think you know any special reason there would be, isn't--but Merlin, you'd better be able to back it up; I'd hate to see that charm come back to bite you in the arse. Watching you jump would be funny, but the fallout from this shit wouldn't be worth it._

_\--DM_

Pansy let a tight little smile pucker her lips as the sensation of rightness ran through her, and turned the letter over to scrawl on the back, _As you obviously know, one of the conditions of my employment is that I only write that which I know to be true. My sources are impeccable, and while of course your interest is... innocent, I assure you, there's no need to threaten._. She waved the owl off toward the bowl of treats she left near the window for anonymous tip owls and rolled over; Justin sometimes wasn't excited about being awakened, but she'd make it worth his while.

\-- 

"Ginny?" Harry took the steps by twos, thinking as he ran up that he really ought to just Apparate up, or maybe summon his broom for the short flight, except that would be ridiculous.

She turned toward him as he entered the room. "Harry? What is it?"

He frowned. "Er. I know I said Pansy was completely barmy, about the whole, you know, but is it... she says... here." He pushed the newspaper across toward her.

The headline ran along the side of page two, and while he was basically prepared to believe Ginny's word, the photograph was a bit odd.

Ginny took the newspaper from him, and as she turned it, her hands shook. She glanced at the headline, and then at the content of the article. "So she's taking something with a kernel of truth and implying I'm sneaking about behind your back. What is _wrong_ with that woman?"

Harry shrugged. "This is going to sound maybe somewhat inappropriate given her previous intimations, but Draco says she's a Seer. Er. That's a secret, which he says if I tell there will be an unfortunate outcome for my testicles, so I'd rather you didn't spread the word."

"So, she's a secret Seer, she's following me to photograph my totally suspicious rendezvous with a member of my extended family in Knockturn Alley, and she's arranging it all neatly so it appears as though I'm fucking around. And you think because Draco says she's a Seer, she must be _right_ about it all?"

"Well, no, but there were the letters--"

"Which could have been faked. I mean, the ones you already wrote and received, those were clearly real, but it doesn't follow the future ones were."

"No, I know. But the date?" Harry paused, fumbling for words. "I just... all right, you know I'm not about to say any of this is all you, right? That I'm saying what I'm seeing, which is you, but I know it goes both ways?"

"In principle." Ginny had crossed both arms before her and her lips were a thin line.

Harry scrunched up his face, certain he needed to tread delicately. "It's only, you haven't seemed so happy, about the baby, which, that was what convinced you about the letters in the first place. And I know Pansy's just letting implications do her dirty work, about you going to see Gabrielle, but it's occurred to me there are other reasons you might go see her, which I..." He licked his lips to moisten them. "I would hope you would talk to me about? But we haven't said more than about three sentences to each other since the whole first story."

"Oh, well that's just perfect." Ginny took a step back, putting up her hand when Harry would have followed. "Gabrielle is Fleur's sister. I see her once or twice in any month, and honestly, sometimes I go by once a week. She's a sweetheart, regardless of anything else she is. I have never made use of her... stable--no, I know you didn't ask, but Pansy's certainly saying to. Just because Mum doesn't approve, well, Fleur loves her and I like her, so. So the newspapers are now implying that this baby isn't yours, and meanwhile _you're_ over here asking whether I've gone to see her to get a potion St. Mungo's won't sell me. Because obviously it would make nine kinds of sense for me to get rid of the inconvenient pregnancy because an unregistered Seer that dislikes me both personally and in principle says my husband is banging the boyhood nemesis he now sees at least as often as I see Gabrielle."

"I'm not, for what it's worth."

"Yes, and you'll note I said she said you are, not that I did."

Harry nodded. "Gin, so... what _are_ you saying?"

"I'm saying I think we have a massive problem being played out in front of the whole sodding nation, and I don't know how to resolve it."

"Could you--maybe I'm being thick, but could you just define the problem so I'm sure we're seeing the same one?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and sat down heavily on the bed. "You and I both have external relationships which led to these pictures in the papers. There's a rogue Seer in our midst who all but says one of those relationships is something more, and who further all but asserts there's something untoward going on with the other. She must be selling loads of newspapers, but that's not our problem. Our problem is that with all that going on, apparently neither of us can quite figure out how to totally trust the other one."

Harry sat down next to Ginny on the bed. "So, it's your position that we should...what, actually?"

"I've no idea. But I do think if we can't work out the trust bit, that's likely catastrophic."

Harry stared at her for a minute. "Well, all right, then. Can I just decide to trust you?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

"Apparently not, since else I already would have done. And the same for you, I know." He shoved his glasses up his nose. "Then perhaps... all right, perhaps we ought to sleep on it." He stood and pulled his shirt over his head and went round to the other side of the bed.

"What, now? Harry, it's, what, half-six?"

"Oh. Right. Well, perhaps we ought to nap on it. And then sleep on it. I don't know about you, but I find the entire topic exhausting."

Ginny stood silently and watched him strip to his pants and get in the bed, then went to do something in the kitchen.

Harry wondered, as he listen to pots clanging one against another, if that was actually rather telling.

\-- 

"And you say she's been here half a dozen times in the last two or three months?" Pansy tapped her quill against her lips. "But you won't confirm what she purchased? What about who she spoke to?"

Gabrielle gave her a sidelong look. Her English was dreadful, but Pansy wasn't sure whether that was only in the words she spoke, or whether she also understood little. She made a little moue and shook her head delicately once, then quite clearly changed the subject. "You seem zho much, to press on you, oui? Per'aps Gerard can 'elp. Ginny say always, 'e 'elp relax 'er."

Pansy held back a chuckle and let herself be led into a warm room thick with the scents of oils and burning spices.

Gerard, it turned out, was quite good with his hands, and while it took her a moment to make her meaning clear, that was of course just the language barrier. He did, clearly, offer services quite a lot more personal than a simple massage. 

When she left the little parlor, Pansy went home smiling for a quick wash-up and a potion to clear her head; she had a newspaper to put out, and most likely Justin would rather not know exactly how she'd done the research on Gerard.

\-- 

_Pansy,_

_This is utter bollocks and you know it. Draco and I are long-time acquaintances. Stop harassing my girlfriend and stop insinuating I'm sleeping with anyone. I'm not._

_Harry_

Pansy read the brief note and smiled broadly. It was really quite a good thing Potter hadn't wound up in Slytherin; they'd have eaten him alive. Honestly, did he even listen to himself?

\-- 

Harry stared at the headline with horror. _Harry Potter confesses celibacy_ , it said. In smaller type, arranged such that each was a separate story but certainly would be read as related, were bits on impotence, on the history of cuckoldry, and on the rather fertile Weasley and Prewett families. In one corner was a brief recap of last week's expose on the services offered at Gabrielle Delacour's 'boutique', which weren't news to Harry, but which he'd never expected to see in plain black and white.

The combined effect was that it appeared he'd denied being the father of Ginny's child, and that perhaps one of the men at the boutique was.

Which was absurd, but Ginny had looked into the relevant law and found that Pansy truly had taken an oath--an enforceable one--to use only that which she had legitimately seen or been told. Obviously, she was skirting common sense and stretching her oath beyond all credulity, but equally obviously, he'd handed this to her.

Damn it.

He looked up at Ginny. "It's not what I actually meant," he said. 

She scowled. "You gave her something direct enough she could print that, Harry. And fuck if I need--damn it." She put up a hurried warding charm and deflected most of the glass as the window above their door shattered inward. People had been hurling rocks and hateful words at her all morning. It was insane.

"Do you want to just go?" Harry asked. "I'm not asking you to, and I mean, I could come with, but it seems as though Pansy's completely certain we're supposed to split. I don't know why I would ever take relationship advice from someone like her, but it seems like we both react as though she's right ever time. I'm beginning to wonder."

Ginny turned on her heel and started packing, and it was quickly clear she was packing only for herself. 

"Where will you go?" Harry asked. His head hurt, and he felt nauseated.

"I suppose I could go shack up with Gerard," Ginny said bitterly.

"After Pansy's story? Ew."

Ginny thought a moment, then wrinkled her nose. "Right." She finished tossing her things in a bag and closed the top. "For the record," she said, "I didn't at any time visit Gabrielle for sex or potions. We have tea, Harry, and I know you want to believe me and do believe me, but Pansy has you doubting." She shrugged. "So I suppose a trial separation is in order."

Harry blinked back the sting in his eyes. "How can you be so calm about this?" he asked.

Ginny arched a brow. "I have a lot of practice waiting for Harry Potter to pull his head out of his arse," she said. "And I also have some experience with prophecies. If you're supposed to be shagging Draco, I expect it will happen, and I expect I'll figure out how I feel about it." She reached for the bag, but let him carry it to the Floo. "This is awkward," she said, " but just, we're split up now, and we might as well let things happen if they do. I expect the papers will be all about us yet again, in the morning. First page, even."

The green flame flared up as she stepped into the Floo, and Harry watched her go, then went upstairs to lie down. He didn't feel like making cradles today, and anyway, he needed Draco to do the charms; his efforts sucked.

\-- 

_Ginny,_

_It's the middle of June. Have we tried this separation thing long enough yet? I wish you'd come back. I believe you. I trust you. I don't know how to fix this, and I'm crap at handling my life on my own. You know that._

_Harry._

_P.S. I do like how Pansy has commenced leaving us the fuck alone now. D'you think it's on purpose?_

\-- 

_Harry,_

_I suppose you must feel very alone; the whole family is my side, isn't it? You know you can still come 'round, right? I would never take everyone 'away' from you. But, no, I think we haven't been separate long enough. The hell of it is, I think this might have been for the best._

_Ginny._

_P.S. Of course it's on purpose, but it still doesn't follow that she's wrong. Also, the thing about not keeping you away from everyone--I suppose I didn't say this aloud, but that applies to the baby too, of course. And, shit, there's the waterworks; women's bodies do ridiculous things when pregnant. I'll be in touch about details another time._

\-- 

"What are you doing here? And how the fuck did you ring the fucking bell?" 

The bell above the door had rung cheerfully when it opened, and Harry, who wasn't in any mood for customers after a lunch meeting with Ginny that had been cordial and polite enough, but had also made it clear she wasn't budging, had hoped it would be someone prepared to browse on her or his own. However, when he'd come out from the back room, the door had been not only closed, but locked up, its curtain pulled down. There was no one in the room. He'd looked around for a good five seconds before realizing what was wrong. Severus Snape was staring out at him from the landscape above the fireplace.

"I'm the ghost of Christmas past, of course."

Harry glared at the painting. "It's not Christmas. It's late July, and I promise I didn't ask for you for my birthday. Look, who even brought you here? I'm reasonably certain I've never established a connection between the Hogwarts paintings and any I have here."

"Yes, well," Snape's portrait stepped forward, somehow looming over Harry despite his lack of third dimension. "We've a mutual interest, and it appears you are being something of a fool."

"Yeah, actually, I think I'm not. I'm waiting--still--for things to settle down so Ginny and I can get on with our lives, which were perfectly smooth and ordinary until Pansy started doing God knows what with her sodding oath to print the truth."

"And yet, it has never occurred to you in all these weeks--months, really--that because she can only print the truth, or that which is in the service of that truth--"

"Wait, what?"

"Who do you suppose helped her write the oath, you dunderhead? She could hardly make the kind of living she wants if she were to be bound by literal precise current truth when there were stories she knew to be true but couldn't prove!"

Harry spent several seconds wondering if it would be justifiable of him to cast a separation charm such that Snape would be trapped here, and then set the portrait afire. Finally, he said, "Let me see, then, if I can sum up. You suggest that I ought to take up with Draco Malfoy, who, I might add, was at one time your greatest admirer and for all I could see you might have been his--well, no, I suspect his father thought he had the potential for perfection. Anyway. So, on the word of a painting and a publisher with a creative definition of truth, I should chuck the life I was obviously supposed to have and go this whole other direction."

Snape the portrait merely continued to look at him. Finally, he said, "Perhaps you ought to consider also the following. If the life you have been leading is in fact the life you are supposed to have, then why is it she is able to write what she does in the service of the truth?"

Harry closed his eyes. "Snape, I will consider that at length if you will tell me what. in the bloody. fuck. it. means."

The sigh was too familiar, and Harry almost stepped back out of habit. "It means, Potter, that somewhere along the line, something happened that twisted your destiny. I dislike the word, for the implication it carries that we are all merely slaves to the events which shape us and which we in turn shape, but there is no better for this circumstance. You have continued to live the life that once was your destiny--that perhaps _is_ yet your destiny, in another life, but what you should be doing here? Has changed. Living a destiny that isn't your own can't end well."

"Is that even possible? Snape? Snape?" Snape had started walking away into the mountains in the frame, and nothing Harry said would bring him back. 

"Miserable bastard," Harry said. He turned and spoke to no one, eyes closed, face turned up as though it were a prayer. Maybe it was. "Would it kill you, world, for me to have some normalcy?" 

He didn't expect an answer, but a log in the unlit fireplace behind him cracked in two and fell to the floor.

Right, then.

\-- 

_Harry,_

_It's been nearly three months, so I suspect you've more stock for me to work on, if you still want to do this. Snape's portrait came and shouted at me recently, so I'm offering. I hope you're well._

_I also hope you appreciate that I didn't tell you anything about any cock in this letter._

_DM_

\-- 

_Draco,_

_I do have stock. People's general responses to me,which appear to be a hybrid of disgust and pity, don't seem to have altered their desire for our furniture. For the record, I did try to do the runework myself on a couple of things. Let's just say it didn't go all that well._

_I'm not even touching the other part of your letter._

_Harry_

\-- 

_Harry,_

_Snape and Pansy would probably both tell us it's that we make a good team. I've tried using the same approach on piecework in my area; it doesn't work the same. Should I come in when you're away?_

_(You're not touching my cock? Alert the media.)_

_Draco_

\-- 

_Draco,_

_Don't bother trying to schedule around me. We do make a good team, at least as far as building things. We might as well embrace it._

_(Not even funny)_

_Harry_

\-- 

"So, now's all right, then?" 

Harry set down the rasp he was using to shape the next piece. "Fine, but this one won't be done for an hour or so."

"You could shape it with magic."

"I think we've had this argument before." Harry shook his head. "I like my way."

Draco nodded and went to move about the completed items, lining them up for his charms. "I saw Weasley the other day. Not Ginny. Ron."

"Oh?" Harry had been avoiding Hermione, which still meant avoiding Ron; he was still pretty sure he was fucking things up, but he'd tried half a dozen times to fix things with Ginny, and his one effort that had involved Hermione had been utterly disastrous.

"He said Snape visited them, too. Oh, and Granger's evidently surprise-pregnant now, too."

Harry blinked. "Seriously?"

"To which?"

"The Snape part, but also the other. Shit, Ginny didn't say, and I've mostly been being a hermit. And obviously I'm not taking any of the papers these days."

"And your Floo's locked."

"Uh. You got in."

"Yes, via the door, with the key I still possess, you idiot."

"Oh." Harry set the rasp down again. "Do you even want us to be, you know, something--"

"Yes."

Harry blinked. "Oh. Uh. Since when?"

"Since the one time we--"

Harry shook his head. "Draco. That was _years_ ago. We weren't even friends. We weren't any kind of partners until... Wait. This rune thing you invented..."

"I had to come up with a useful skill." Draco shrugged, suddenly a little shy. "For the record, I did not undertake or know of anyone else undertaking to fuck up whatever destiny or life thing Snape talked about."

Harry nodded. "But maybe that's what changed everything. After the battle, I mean."

"Doubt it. How can everyone _not_ have fucked in the wake of the whole battle and not being dead?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe in another life, I just accelerated my sexual relationship with _Ginny_ , and never you. Maybe... I don't know. Maybe it's not even relevant." He turned and shoved the rasp away, sitting on the floor and then scooting back against the wall. "Also, I don't know if I want to talk about sex with her, with you now."

"Right. No talking about your girlfriend's-- never mind." Draco sat down next to him. "So now what?"

"Really, all this time? But you flirt with everything that moves."

"I was being subtle. Plus, I don't know if you noticed, but you had a girlfriend and we currently aren't discussing that. Plus it wasn't like I was _pining_ or anything. As that would be pathetic, and Malfoys refuse to be pathetic unless there is a sociopath threatening our every movement."

"Right. I forgot." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well, a brief defense of the name had to be made. So we're agreed; I wasn't pining."

"But you had some sort of bloody goal involving me and--"

"No."

"What?"

"No, I didn't. Look, Potter, you may have noticed, all those weeks I did not jump you, did not try to tell you Ginny was being crazy, did tell you about Pansy's secret, did not suggest revenge sex or anything like it. I went away. I let you try to fix things. I've never had a goal of fucking up your life. Wait, no, I know. I did when I was eleven. I mean, in this regard."

Harry picked up the abandoned rasp and started picking individual little bits of sawdust out of the grooves. "So, what you said before. Now what?"

"Are you reasonably sure Snape's right?"

"Snape and Pansy," Harry said. "And not at all. That is, I understand why she sees the attraction between us, but I'm not at all sure they know what they're talking about, and I mean, Ginny and I..."

"Then now, we make furniture," Draco said. He stood and offered Harry a hand. 

\-- 

"It's a girl?" Harry looked at the calendar and frowned. It was the right day... "Wait, but--"

"I was going to come get you, but it was half one in the morning, and then everything happened way faster than anyone expected. Obviously, as it's, what time is it?"

"Ten after five. I can't believe I'm up at this hour when it's not because Ginny... well, all right, it _is_ because Ginny is. Basically." Harry choked out half a chuckle. "Who'd have thought?"

"True that it's because she's up, I suppose, but entirely not the same as other times. She said you should come as soon as you have some coffee, but it's all right if it's later because she knows this isn't your favorite time of day."

"I was going to be over there for lunch anyway. We rather expected today to be the day. Why is she inviting me earlier?"

"You never talked about girl names."

"What? Oh, I guess, um, we didn't. I hadn't really thought about that. I suppose James is--"

"Can I just come through? It's bloody uncomfortable for me to bend down this way."

"Oh. Yeah, sure, I guess." Harry raked a hand through his hair and then stuck it out to steady Hermione as she stepped out of the Floo. "You're getting, um, never mind."

"Huge. I know. Molly thinks it must be twins, which naturally means Fred's on a mission to get me to pick F-and-G names. He says it's about time."

"It _is_ about time." Harry spun toward the new voice.

"George! Wait, how'd you get here?" 

George shrugged his transparent shoulders. "Fred and I've been working on a couple of things. Uh, Hermione, it's twins. We didn't have anything to do with _your_ procreation issues, though."

Harry blinked. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

For possibly the first time ever, George looked a little bit abashed. "It means, I've been elected to tell you this because what, you're going to kill me again?"

"Possibly. Depends what it is, if you're behind the troubles this year has brought."

"Snape told you most of it. Or so he said. We hadn't worked out how to get me off the Hogwarts grounds yet."

"He told me there was an alternate--Hermione, are you all right?"

"Fine. I think I'd like to hear this."

"So would I. George?"

"The good news is, it's a fairly short story to tell."

"Then maybe you could, say, _tell it_?" Harry flopped down on the couch. "It's too early in the morning for guessing games."

"Too right," George said. "She was up with the birds even when she was a little thing. But that's not the story. I'll just tell it."

"Good."

Hermione sat down next to Harry as George floated around the end of the couch. "It's like this. We've been trying for years and years to work out how to get me out of Hogwarts. The first try didn't work the way we had in mind, but it did work in another way entirely."

"Oh?" Harry was beginning to lose patience.

"Yeah. It crossed me into a different dimension, or alternate...I don't know. Different reality? In that one, I wasn't dead. In that one, Fred--I came back as soon as I knew, but it was horrible."

Hermione sighed. "Oh, George. And then you tinkered with the approach again, and it shifted you in time, didn't it?"

Harry turned toward her. "What?"

"How else would the future knowledge have come up?"

"And Fred knew--don't blame Gabrielle, but she and Ginny have been talking a long time. He knew you lot were under pressure, and it seemed like a good idea to us to keep you together, and the other Ginny was pregnant--of course, there, you were married ages ago--and it wasn't that hard to just introduce a potion so it would be the same here. To make you happy, like you were in the other..." George trailed off. "It doesn't make the most sense, when I explain it linearly, but honestly, we just meant to help. Except evidently there were opposing forces in play."

Harry stared at George for a long time. "So, the letters were your doing, and the baby was supposed to happen either way, and in this reality, if I accept that there are multiple realities, which isn't any weirder than anything else I've seen in the last twenty years or so, Ginny and I were supposed to split sooner?"

"Something like that." 

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. "You should tell Draco."

"Or Ginny," Harry said.

"Fred's going to tell her after she's had a bit of rest," George put in. "We can't be sorry about the baby, or about how the whole thing evidently inspired you and Ron, Hermione, but we didn't actually mean to cause the kind of mess we did."

"Did you ever? Mean to cause a mess?" Harry could hear his annoyance in his own voice, but what he felt was actually mostly relief. That he hadn't screwed things up. That the way he and Ginny hadn't worked out was supposed to be. That looking at Draco's arse wasn't, in fact, wrong of him. 

That last part was surprisingly high on the list. Maybe he needed to listen to himself more.

George shook his head. "On the plus side, we did eventually get the whole thing right, with breaking the thing that keeps ghosts in place."

"You're not going to share that too widely, are you?" Hermione asked. 

"Nah. It was just, twins are funny about certain things. You'll see. And I _swear_ we had nothing to do with that bit."

Hermione scowled. "I had better never find out differently." She leaned forward and tried to stand, then looked at Harry. "Little help?"

He pulled her upright and then pulled her close for a hug. "Next time there's family drama, remind me I need all of you, right?"

She shook her head. "I doubt it will help, but I'll try." She kissed his cheek. "I've missed you, but that can wait. You have a destiny to get back on track, and a baby to name."

"You really think I should find Draco first?"

She shrugged. "Ginny was asleep, and why not? I rather suspect this has been difficult for him. And I also suspect that when one finds one's destiny has been tampered with, one ought to tend to it immediately."

Harry turned back toward George, who was gone. "Coward." He turned back. "And you don't think it will scar my daughter forever if I stay away for a few hours?"

"I think if you fix your own problems before you meet her, the first time she sees you, she'll see you happy."

"Good point, although I might think so for all the wrong reasons." Harry shook his head. "Alternate realities. I never would have guessed."

"Whyever not?"

"I have no idea."

\-- 

_Draco,_

_So, it turns out Pansy isn't the only force at work. We should talk. Now, if you still want, you know, for Pansy to be right. I went to your flat and the mansion, but you're evidently difficult to find today._

_Harry._

_P.S. Please._

\-- 

Pansy woke slowly half an hour past sunrise, her whole body hot and flushed.

Justin was already awake, staring at her. "You're glowing," he said. "I think your story just came together."

She glanced at the clock, but before she could focus on it, he'd pulled her chin back toward him. "Papers are already out for the morning, and I think we should take advantage of how horny it makes you to see one of your predictions come true. We've got a couple hours." He moved over her as she shuddered and opened her legs; she was more than ready, and the fact that he knew it only made it better. Maybe she ought to go through with keeping this one.

\-- 

Harry was dozing on the couch an hour after Hermione had gone when the knock came at his door and he startled upright. "What?"

"You do know that if you invite someone to your home, it's polite to be awake and also not leave all points of entry locked?" 

Harry went to the door. "Sorry." He leaned against the edge of it and wet his lips with his tongue. "I...now that you're here, I don't know what to say."

Draco came inside and shut the door behind him. "Do you want to tell me the whole story now? Or shall we get to the point where we make Pansy's prophecies come all the way true, and then you can tell me whilst we lie about in the afterglow?"

Harry blushed. "Is there a middle ground?"

"Perhaps." Draco shrugged off-handedly, although Harry thought it was a practiced move, intended to make him appear to care less than he did. "What did you have in mind?"

"Not you being coy," Harry said.

"What, you expect I'll be some sort of model of forthrightness?" Draco snorted. "No, I think that's bloody unlikely."

"Right, I know." Harry wet his lips again. "I think that's usually my role. Except--oh."

Draco took two quick steps forward and kissed Harry, hard, pushing him back another pace even as he pulled Harry up against him. 

Harry paused for a moment, his thoughts careening back and forth, but before he could come to any sort of conclusion, he was kissing back, and then his thoughts slowed to molasses.

Finally, he opened his eyes, and then, exasperated, shoved his steamed-up glasses off his face and onto the top of his head.

"I haven't seen you with them off since, well, for a long time," Draco said quietly.

"Yes, that's because I can't see you with them off unless you're right here, and you haven't been," Harry replied. "Want to go with me to meet my daughter?"

Draco dropped his head forward, giggling on Harry's shoulder. "That's possibly the least-directly-sexy line I have ever been the recipient of. Of course I do. Also, I don't know if you know, but I think men with small children that they, you know, _like_ are scorching hot. Hold on a minute. Daughter?"

"I haven't met her, so I can't promise I'll be immediately proficient at demonstrating liking her. Yes, daughter. This is part of that whole forces at work issue. It wasn't a line. You do?"

"I do. We can take her our best cradle. This conversation is ridiculous." Draco pulled Harry into another kiss, walking them back toward the couch. When they got there, he pushed Harry to sit down, then dropped to his knees and shoved up Harry's t-shirt. "Maybe you'll make more sense after you come."

Harry couldn't figure out an immediate reason to object to the concept, not least because now that they were down to it, he couldn't _stop_ remembering their one previous encounter, on a much dustier couch in one of the half-shattered common rooms, Draco's bright-white hair gray with the dust and dirt of the night. This was better. He brought his glasses back down. "I doubt it," he said. "Also, what if I want _you_ to make more sense?"

Draco looked up from where he was unfastening Harry's jeans, and grinned. "Then I suppose you'd better make me come, too. Not that there's a great deal of question about that now."

Harry laughed. "Oh, no?" He grasped Draco's hands, stopping them, and maneuvered them around until they were both on the couch, Draco on his back, Harry looking down at him with what he was sure was a stupid grin. "Then I think I want to have a little more control of how it happens." He Banished the t-shirt that was still all off-center from Draco's hands and opened Draco's collar. "You always dress a lot better than I do," he said conversationally.

"Of course I do," Draco said. "I can't get away with denims and trainers like you can."

"Why's that?"

"My arse isn't nearly as good as yours." Draco bit his lip as though he'd said more than he meant to, but he was clear-eyed, his expression open, and Harry grinned.

"You're barmy, but I think I'm glad you've been looking," he said. He dropped down again, kissing Draco hard, drawing a groan, and Banished the rest of their clothes.

"Thought you wanted control," Draco gasped, arching up and pressing all that skin against Harry.

"Fuck control," Harry said, sliding his hands under Draco's shoulders and arching as well. "I think we've waited long enough."

\-- 

"Good of you to take all the blame, Weasley."

George's ghost tilted his head at Snape's portrait. "Yes, well. We may have borrowed a thing or two from you over the years. He didn't need to know it was you that steered us wrong in the first place."

"I didn't anticipate such a reckless response," the portrait said with a sneer. "I merely wanted to know whether I'd survived in another reality. As you may have noted, I cannot go there myself."

"Would you really have wanted to know?" George peered at the painted Snape closely. "It's not actually an improvement, knowing."

"I suppose it isn't." Snape crossed his arms. "But I still wished for the information."

George nodded. "At least it all worked out, in the end."

"For whom? I am still a portrait, you may have observed."

"Yeah, but a portrait who can take credit with both of them for helping to bring them together."

Snape sighed heavily. "It will have to do."

\-- 

Pansy looked at her column and smiled, her body still buzzing with success. A new addition, a new relationship (gone public), and a story of some intrigue, to boot. It was like magic.

**Author's Note:**

> The swap is: the other Weasley Twin survived.


End file.
